


Pandoran Psycho

by radstag



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Borderlands AU, Multi, american psycho-esque, hyperion is like a mega corporation and literally everyone works for them, mention of violence, opportunity is more of a giant city thing, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:13:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7983046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radstag/pseuds/radstag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What becomes of the man who has a literal psycho running rampant in his head? The short answer: a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

The loud sound of telephone calls resonating through the walls of scattered offices is what woke Rhys. Upon lifting his head from the keyboard of his computer, he acknowledged the puddle of drool seeping across the solid, metal desk like a miniature lake -only more disgusting. He yawned, catching a glimpse of himself in the monitor before him, and more importantly the state of disarray that his hair was in: a matted mess sticking up in some parts and plastering to his forehead in others. Habitually and without much thought he ran a mechanical hand swiftly through the disgruntled clump in attempt to neaten it. It did not work.

"Ugh," he sighed exhaustedly, beginning to switch his computer back on from standby. When the screen flickered on Rhys saw that he had managed to type a long message to one of his superiors reading "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...". Extreme emphasis on long. Fortunately he hadn't managed to hit the enter key amidst his slumber. In a company like Hyperion, that kind of faulter could lead to your head on a spike like some kind of crude ornament at a filthy bandit encampment. Literally. And Rhys was sick of being a corporate lackey with no sense of power or control, just mandatory duties fed to him through a straw. Figuratively.

Ironically, living in the evergrowing city of Opportunity offered no such thing that the name suggested; it was a skag eat skag world on Pandora and here was no exception. Day in day out, Rhys sat in front of a screen crunching numbers and coding with 1s and 0s, using his knowledge of programming to conjure up something that even Tassiter would find enthralling. All the constant hardwork and shifts of up to 12 hours daily would eventually pay off- or the somewhat optimistic (but mostly pessimistic) Rhys had in mind. Climbing up the Hyperion hierarchy was not a meal jusy anyone could stomach; most feared for their lives as they went about their daily routine. Inevitably there were those that had just the power they so desired and did with it as they pleased, treating people like dirt trapped between the prints on their skag boots.

Rhys leaned back in the partially cushioned gold and black wheelie chair he was sat on as his eyelids slowly began closing. He was drained. The sheer thought of a comfy bed was too endulgent but was so rewarding. A soft quilt and a plump pillow to lay upon...

"BZZZZZZ!" a noise sounded from Rhys' cybernetics, causing him to jump and hurtle forwards, almost off the chair. He was being called by his coworker and assistant, Yvette. He picked up the call and before he could muster up a greeting her voice sounded urgently, "Rhys! You have a 12 o'clock with August at Hero's Pass," there was a slight pause as Yvette came up as a holographic display out of Rhys' palm, "You might want to sort your hair out."

Again, Rhys pushed his hand through the hazel mop, trying to ignore the minor implications of disappointment from Yvette as she saw the state he was in, "Uhhhm, kinda busy here. Also lazy. So....if you could cancel that for me-"

"It's 12. Like right now." she quipped, inconceivably shaking her had at Rhys' somewhat pathetic antics.

"Shit," came his one word response.

"I'm not cleaning this mess up for you. He just called in and he sounds pissed so I guess you should haul ass to Hero's Pass before August decides to give you...Whatever it is August will give you if you show up any later."

"A smack?"

"Or worse."

"A haircut to match his?" Rhys giggled childishly at his own remark.

"Rhys!" Yvette wanted to laugh but her professionality took charge.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. It would be substantially worse if he tried to give me piercings to match his,"

Yvette hung up. Rhys continued laughing to himself for several seconds before deeply sighing, standing up, brushing himself off, applying some breath freshner of sorts and walking towards to door, the thick wedges of his tailored boots clipping against the hard floor, emitting an oddly satisfying noise. With a nose turned up in business etiquette, Rhys checked his appearance in the passing window, placing his hands on his hips, standing up straight and pushing his chest out forward: a truly boss worthy stance. Although August was what Rhys would consider a friend, he was still higher up than him and being on his best form would provide some much needed boost- what with August's mother being perhaps one of the most important people in the company. A good relationship with him was necessary for progression, even if he surrounded himself with assholes -such as the likes of Hugo Vasquez.

Rhys abruptly exited his office, slightly relieved that he wouldn't be staring at the same four gross, yellow walls for the forthcoming hours. Once the meeting had ceased Rhys intended to drop a line to Vaughn, his once and forever bro and house mate, inviting him out for celebratory pizza at the finest restraunt in all of Opportunity. Today was an important one; Rhys was to ask August for feedback on a prototype security system for the Hyperion networks he had spent the last eternity putting together. If all went well, Rhys wanted Vaughn to be there to taste the victory.

Rhys smiled coyly at Yvette as he passed her at her desk, talking into a headset, bashing her fingers frantically away at her keyboard and only offering Rhys half s glance -and an angry one at that. He passed Wilhelm and Tim, both obviously too consumed in making paper airplanes and throwing them into tiny metal trashcans to be doing any real work. Tim looked up at Rhys and pointed his finger like a gun, "Rhys! My second favourite robo man!" before fist bumping his first favourite robo man, Wilhelm and continuing, "Your hair...You look... Rough."

"It's how you look when you've been working hard all night," Rhys grinned, taking offence from what should have been a humorous remark. Why do they have to make fun of the hair? Rhys replied as if unoffended, "You should try it some time."

"Nooope. Sounds dull. Have fun wherever you're going though, bud." Tim genuinely meant that and any hints of sarcasm in his tone were purely coincidental. Timothy couldn't berate a rakk divebombing the very life out of him if he tried. Hypothetically anyway. No one really knows what Tim would do if he was being decimated by rakks.

"I second that," Wilhelm added and frowned.

"Second what?" Tim questioned

"About work being dull."

Tim tilted his head in confusion, "Oh."

"Of course not about Rhys having fun. Why would I second that?" Wilhelm wasn't fond of Rhys. Like many people, he found him whiny and a damn sight annoying. And a bootlicker. Boy could Rhys be a bootlicker.

Tim laughed, watching Wilhelm intricately fold pieces of paper into airbourne masterpieces, capable of smooth flight straight into the bin, "Yeah, I thought as much," he replied.

Rhys was walking away but remained in eavesdropping distance of the pair as their conversation came to a halt, "Love you too, Willy." he said, knowing the feeling of disdain Wilhelm has towards pet names. If Rhys had been facing him he would have offered him a far from pleasant wink. Sardonically, of course. Hopefully.

Rhys sauntered away, thus becoming out of reach if Wilhelms hardly discreet namecalling, "Prick." Wilhelm mumbled

"Easy there buddy," Timothy spoke softly, watching as Wilhelm narrowed his eyes at the now distant Rhys, "No need for names like that."

"There is every need," Wilhelm grumbled, leaning back in his chair and flinging his enhanced legs upon the table, the loud clanging making his entire surroundings wish they could turn a deaf ear to him, "If he wasn't somewhat important around here I would have caved his feeble skull in."

Tim looked at Wilhelm, "I'm not sure that even _here_ you woulf get away with that," Wilhelm spun to face Tim with a harsh, soulless stare, "...On second thought, I guess you would find a way."

"I always do."

By this point in time, Rhys had traversed a seemingly endless hallway and was faced with the large, steel doors of an elevator. It pinged as it reached his floor and the doors effortlessly peeled back to reveal several employees cramped in there together. He didn't recognise any of them and so paid them no mind or gesture. He slid his way into the crowd as the doors shut and the elevator dropped rapidly past floor after floor. He knew at this rate, August would be very mad at how long he was taking. Maybe, he thought to himself, he should stop doing everything in slow motion. No, that would be too much to ask.

The time had reached 12:30 when Rhys found himself climbing clumsily into the backseat of a cab that would take him to Hero's Pass. Opportunity had been thriving for many years and as a result, had become bigger than anyone could have ever imagined. It harboured the biggest Hyperion based operations on the whole of Pandora and had become more than just a land based outpost for the mega corporation. Now, it was a community of people: from lackeys to loaderbots, all contributing to the constantly expanding world of Hyperion. Hero's Pass was a relatively well renowned food joint that corporate bigshots would hold their meetings at; Rhys wanted to speak to August in no other place.

The car hummed lowly and Rhys leaned back onto the cold, unwelcoming embrace of the faux leather upholstery, ugly in every aspect. Buildings whizzed passed, most notably The Purple Skag- a pub well renowned for distasteful food and drink said to replicate the true feeling of being bandit scum. Apparently, as Rhys had heard and most definitely not experienced first hand, the imported Rakk ale and Rotgut Distillery whiskey is strong enough to make you forget where and who you are. Not to mention how August was the proud proprietor of it. Rhys imagined the money that place makes is substantial; you'd be surprised at the number of people wanting to get skag faced in Opportunity.

The cab came to an abrupt halt. Rhys slid across the seat, nudged thhe door open with more effort than necessary and clambered out with an absolute lack of grace. He outstretched his lanky arms and interlocked his fingers, cracking them as if he was about to throw down or something as equally drastic. Spinning around momentarily, he gestured to cab to leave and walked into Hero's Pass. Hero's Pass was fancy. Upon entry Rhys was literally lost for words, despite this being one of many visits. The building was small and square, but gave way to a huge interior that stretched far back, opening up into a ludacris arrangement of tables accompanied by water features and exotic plants. Soft music echoed within, undermining the gentle splash of water pouring gallantly from the fountains; it held the essence of fairytale deep within. An all too clever façade, Rhys thought. But hell, it was something to marvel at.

A sudden cough caught Rhys' attention, "Ahem. Are you lost?"

"No, I'm Rhys." Rhys laughed.

"Funny. But I don't think you belong here, do you?" A snyde voice poised the question at Rhys.

"I do. I think. I'm here for August?" Rhys ignored the disrespectful insinuation and upheld his image, "I was-"

"Meant to be here 40 minutes ago."

Rhys discreetly rolled his eyes and mustered up, "Yes. I'm late."

"Terrific," the man rolled his eyes indiscreetly, evidently mocking Rhys and his punctuality- or lack of, "Right this way."

The pair approached August's table where Rhys instantaneously noticed 2 things: 1, August was tucking into his food already and had seemingly ordered for Rhys and 2, that August looked like a tool. His hair was flicked up into tiny mountainous formations as per usual and his beard offered the same appearence. If he were to touch it, he would severely cut himself, Rhys thought. The nose and earrings remained and Rhys believed August slept in those. As for clothes, he was wearing a pastel lilac business shirt, a grey vest (with a silver pocket watch tucked neatly into the breast pocket, the chain hanging out) and a purple bowtie hung untied and loosely around his neck, for the sole purpose of looking slightly casual and slightly tough, Rhys assumed.

Rhys, dressed in his Hyperion attire, felt incompetent next to August. For multiple reasons, not just the clothes, "Oh, I was wondering when you were planning on showing up." August said, mouthful of what Rhys could only see as thresher tentacles. Yes, those were thresher tentacles.

"Well if I'd have known you were gonna be eating  lovely plate of... eugh," Rhys shuddered, "I wouldn't have bothered showing up at all."

"It's thresher, don't be such a bandit."

"I feel like you're not hearing what you're saying... It's thresher. Doesn't that ,like, make you more of a bandit? Eating that..." Rhys gagged a little bit. Even more so when he saw that August had ordered the exact same platter for him.

"Ohhh no, Rhys, you got it all wrong. It's a delicacy. Skag meat, now that's bandit chow."

"You keep telling yourself that. Whatever helps you sleep at night." Rhys couldn't even look at the single tentacle hanging from August's mouth without feeling like projecting his last meal across the room.

"Sit." August commanded, pointing his fork at the chair opposite, "We're here on business anyway, so just hold in whatever it is you're thinking of throwing up and wait."

"Got it." Rhys did not have it. The smell became worse when he got closer but he inhaled deeply and relaxed, "So what's the news. Did they like the prototype?"

"You know Rhys, it wasn't my job to review it, so I guess I don't really know. Never been much good with a computer. I'm a man of action, y'know. Of brawn. And money. I'll be paying for it, yeah?"

"So what's this then? What are we doing now?" Rhys became panicked.

August interjected, "Woah, woah. Not so fast paced. Chill. Eat something or drink or whatever. We'll get to that."

Rhys glared a hefty glare at the food before him, the dredful stench pungent and unforgiving, "I'll have to pass on that."

"How's your life going? You seeing anybody? Do you still live wih that little nerd? The small one with the glasses. Ahh fuck, what's his name?" Rhys opened his mouth to speak but August continued, "No, no don't say it. On the tip of my tongue. Vincent?"

"No. It's Vaughn, and yes I still live with him." Rhys frowned.

August took a swig of some weird cocktail, magenta in colour but perhaps just as vile as thresher in taste. He swallowed and began on another topic, "Don't y'think you're asking for a little too much for the thing? It's a little disk drive. I don't get it."

"It's not the drive I'm selling- look you said it yourself, you don't understand computers so I'm just not gonna-"

August interrupted Rhys, "I know what I said. But half a mil? Don't you know what else I could buy for that?" August poked the fork around his plate, mushing the mess around, "That's rhetorical. Don't answer that. But it's a lot."

"Then I'll take it elsewhere."

August ignored Rhys for he had eyed up something else across the room. Rhys furrowed his brow in discontempt at August's distracted mind and genuinely felt like smacking him so he would return to the conversation. He would get more than a smack back though. Try a bloody nose.

"August. August? My eyes are over here," Rhys became agitated, but took a large gulp of saliva when he turned around and saw that which August could not refrain from staring at, "Shit."

"Here he is," August smirked, watching a well dressed man approach the table, "Vasquez"

"Hello ladies," Vasquez grinned and looked at the pair, "August. Rhys. I believe there is a mater of business to discuss. And I'm gonna keep it short. Keep it sweet. Poor August has been waiting here an awful long time to greet you Rhys."

Hugo Vasquez was a money driven, business headed, ruthless war monger. If it wasn't blowing up, about to blow up or covered in money, Vasquez wasn't interested. Rhys knew he was in for a mouthful- a possible hearty lecture which he wished he wouldn't have to endure.

"If I had known you were coming I would've stayed at the office." Rhys was not best pleased with this,"There are only a couple of ways this is gonna go."

"You think I want to waste my time with you?" Vasquez sneered, looking down upon Rhys like trash, droning on in a low, drawn out fashion that made listening to his rambling almost unbearable, "I knew what your reaction would be if you were aware I was involved, hence why my man August is here. My middle man."

"Okay. Okay, I don't have that much time and definitely not enough to listen to you two bicker about whatever it is you both can't agree on. Are we buying or not?" August demanded, money on his mind.

"Aha. Ahahaha. Are we buying? Ahah," Vasquez childishly chuckled, waving off what August had said like it was a priceless, corny joke, "No. We are not. And I'll tell you why. Because it's crap and because it costs too much. And because I've found a better source for our security needs. Now, Rhys, I know what you're thinking. And I don't care. You drive a hard bargain that I'm not willing to pay."

"If not me, then who?" Rhys spoke through gritted teeth as he tried to regain composure. He wanted to say so much more but saved himself the humility.

"Dr. Patricia Tannis. She's actually smart. I know what's running through your head as we speak: 'why me? but my life's work! My sad little life's work!' Yada, yada. I could crush this teency bit of scrap between my finger and thumb like a fly. It's weak, like the piss water ale that they sell here. Weak like every other Hyperion corporate keyboard masher in that department of yours. Like /you/. I would say sorry for the inconvenience, Rhys, but I really am not sorry. Like at all. Half a mil! The cheek. You thought this was your big break but you were wrong." And with that spiteful comment, Vasquez threw the disk drive forcefully at Rhys, signalled August to leave and the pair left Rhys sat on his own with two platters of thresher tentacles and a frown.

"Nothing personal," August added, walking at the heels of Hugo like an obedient minion.

Vasquez's voice trailed off into the distance, "Half a mil!" he called, laughing, slapping August on the back and making like he had heard a joke so funny he had to wipe a single tear from under his eye. Rhys was the punchline.

Rhys' mouth was hung ajar as he stared into the plate with a face of utter defeat. He sunk back and lingered while he felt tears trying to well under his eyes; he could hardly hold back the urge to scream. His entire life's work had been destroyed in a matter of minutes by a man he hated and would always hate. Without hesitation, he used his cybernetic arm to dial up Vaughn because Rhys had a plan. A plan so cunning, so despicable that no one would ever see it coming.

Vaughn answered and Rhys beared his heart, "Cancel tonight's plans. We're getting blackout drunk."

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The rate at which Rhys was throwing high percentage spirits down his throat you would have thought he had made it his mission to destroy his liver and poison himself with alcohol. Alas, it may as well have been at this point because he was utterly crushed and stricken with a crisis after his life's work was ridiculed in front of his own eyes. He was sat at the front of the Purple Skag, elbow leaning against the hard wood of the bar as he stared into a glass of the "finest" Zaford whiskey in front of him, swirling the contents around aimlessly. Smoke wavered like a bad atmosphere above his head, coming from the lit cigarettes of those sat around him. To his left, a man he /knew of/ but didn't know well. Mordecai. A guy who earned his keep and spent it on booze and other needless tidbits to pass the time. He hardly spoke at all, simply sipping on rakk ale and pulling at the grey hairs of his pointed beard protruding oddly from his chin. To his right, a soft faced but bad intetioned woman with a scornful stare and a bewildering grin. Rhys didn't know her, nor did he want to. He couldn't read her emotions due to the fact that they were hidden under the shade of her sheriff style hat. That and he was petrified of the whip she holstered around her waist.

"You might want to ease up on those," the bartender, a strangely dressed loader bot with a thick Elpisian accent, said as it monitored Rhys' drinking.

"You might...You might wanna..Stop." Rhys was slurring slightly but could muster up intelligable words. He hadn't even waited for Vaughn to arrive before launching himself head first into a druken stupor. He was too hellbent on never remembering the faux pas he labels "his life".

Rhys had asked Vaughn to meet him at the joint at 6pm, a suitable time to begin drinking light drinks, such as the ale they have on tap, or perhaps a bottle or can. However, he didn't have the patience to wait, showing up at 5 and hammering shots into his mouth like he was being paid to do it or as if his very life depended on it. At this point he thought it did. He could feel the buzz trickling down the back of his skull, crawling down his spine eerily but with such inexplicable satisfaction. Deeply occupied with his drink and spinning head, Rhy failed to hear Vaughn waltz into the bar up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Waaaah!" Rhys cried, "You.. You scared the ssshit out of me!"

Vaughn suddenly recoiled, pulling away from Rhys and wafting his right hand around the air rapidly, "Your breath is like death, bro. How many are you-" Vaughn looked at the accumulating glasses in front of Rhys and Rhys smiled a grin only his missing sobriety could muster up, "Right. That's- that's a lot."

"Uhhh huh. Better start drinking buddy or you'll never...You'll never catch up." 

"Honestly dude, you sound out of it. Lemme take you home," Vaugh was a good friend and outstretched an arm, grabbing onto Rhys to gently pull him away.

"Nooo! No. Nonononono. We stay here." Rhys couldn't even keep his eyes open, much less be looking at Vaughn when he spoke to him. 

Concerned but complying, Vaughn trotted over to the bar where he was greeted by the loaderbot, "What he's having." and pointed at Rhys.

"Please keep an eye on him. He will probably die soon. That is how you say..Bad for business. August will have my parts for scrap." The loaderbot hesitantly poured a small glass of whiskey on the rocks and pushed it across the wood before Vaughn did the same with the money.

"Don't worry, I've got him." Vaughn raised his beverage, met eyes with Rhys and announced, "To dicks!"

Rhys, glass raised, almost dropped it at Vaughn's comment, "Bro, I don't think that's what you meant to say."

"Why? It is every bit what I wanted to- Oh. I get you. Not like that I- Forget it." Vaughn was somewhat embarrassed, what with all the other deliquents in the bar eyeing him up.

Rhys stood up from the stool, held the drink exceptionally high (for someone of Rhys' stature it really wasn't high up, but to Vaughn it was almost escaping the planets atmosphere), and yelled, "To dicks!" before tossing the sour concoction down his neck and slamming the glass down on the table with so much frustration and drunken clumsyness that it came close to shattering. After seeing what Rhys had done, Vaughn replicated it, though with not a great degree of accuracy or grace, gagging on the liquid as it took more than a few gulps to hurl it down.

"You got that," the woman with the hat and whip sat beside them added subtly. Rhys and Vaughn weren't sure which version of "dicks" she was agreeing to or why she even deemed it necessary to contribute. The pair ignored her.

The evening panned out typically, Rhys and Vaughn shedding tears of joy and distress, offering unto one and other their deepest thoughts whilst their bodies intertwined in conceivably awkward hugs, fuelled only by the ultimate bromance. The foul stench of liquor hung tight to them and most of those around the bar had taken their leave, probably to binge drink another night away at some other place.

"I don't know how you do it," Vaughn sighed, watching Rhys haul more alcohol into his mouth.

"I just pretend that it tastes real good," Rhys replied, pushing a hand through his hair.

"Nooo. Not- not that. Hang around with /those types/."

"Who? August? Guys a piece of- piece of work sure. Still like him though," Rhys couldn't conjure a reason why exactly, or why Vaughn cared to ask.

"August. Axton. The Hammerlocks. Athena. To name a few," Vaughn looked saddened, panged with copious amounts of envy, "Real jerks."

"Pffft. You say that because they don't like /you/" Rhys spat, coming across harsher than intended.

"Well they treat you like shit on their boots, worse in fact, but whatever -hic- floats your boat, man."

They sat silent for a moment, Rhys agreeing with Vaughn's statement, much to his own disdain, but refusing to come forth and openly admit it. Music sounded through the room, resonating from the walls with a dull ring.

 

Rhys broke the silence several minutes later, changing topic, "Vvvaughn. Hear me- hear me out for a second. Jusss' a second, bro." Rhys was seeing a glazed, double vision and found difficulty in picking out a Vaughn to drunkly stare down while he spoke, "Are you listening?" Vaugh nodded and Rhys continued, "I know you got my back dude, but- but theresss something that I, uhm, need your help with and you can't say no. My life- my life depends on it."

"Anything for -hic- for you," Vaugh had managed to chug a lot of alcohol in hopes he could achieve what Rhys had. He was relatively successful, finding himself straining with intesity to keep the hiccups down.

"You know this whole situation, with the, uhm, disk drives and shit? Yeah? Well, I wanna know what- what-" Rhys looked around to see if anyone was eavesdropping. When he believed they weren't, he carried on, "That -bitch- Patricia Tennis-"

"Tannis."

"Whatever. /Tannis/ had that was better than what I had. I need to see it." In that very moment, Rhys felt like the most devious employee Hyperion had ever hired. Again, he scanned the area for potential listeners, "We're gonna break into her lab."

"Ohhh shit. We are?" Vaughn wasn't used to the sense of danger and excitement, "Right now?"

Rhys stood up and yanked Vaughn mercilessly off the stool, "Right. Now."

Suddenly, Rhys shot up from his chair, sending his head into an absolute tailspin of pain and buzzing. The side of his profound cheekbones were drenched in sticky, abysmal saliva and his mouth felt more shrivelled up than a salted varkid, "Uhhhhhh," he moaned, holding a single hand on the top of his head in hopes to stop the aching, "Fuck,"

"Deja vu?" Yvette spoke, sending Rhys tubling backwards off his chair in shock, "Shit! Are you okay?"

"Yes." Rhys called from on the floor.

"You don't look it. Anyway, I'll leave you be seen as though you have nothing scheduled," Yvette was moments away from hanging up until she saw Rhys force his way up his desk, clambering with complete struggle.

"How did I get here?" He stood up and adjusted his attire, flattening out the creases of his suit and making sure everything was in tact.

"I assumed you were working late again. That not the case?"

Rhys ran a hand through the mop on his head, "No, not at all. Not at all. I was out drinking. With Vaughn."

"Huh, that's weird. Would explain why you look like that though,"

"I'm not even gonna check. But this is weird."

"I'm getting another call. Look, we'll catch up later. You can tell me all about this little escapade. Bye Rhys," She hung up abruptly.

Checking the time, 12:08am, Rhys picked up the toppled over chair, sighed deeply as if his life was a burden and headed for the door. It creaked open and the bright light of the hallway sent Rhys' brain into malfunction, "Ahh, shit. Was not ready for that. Damn."

He waved to Yvette who probably didn't see, too captivated by a dull phone call to notice. Once more he smoothed down his hair, trying to attain the "I have not just woken up" look, with no notable success whatsoever. As he was walking, Rhys made eye contact with Tim who was not making paper planes today and was instead furrowing a brow at Rhys and Rhys alone. Sat waiting like a bird of prey. Tim stood up, marched over to Rhys and confronted him.

"Look, Rhys. You ever go on to me like you did last night, I /will/ get Wilhelm on you. Not like he doesn't have enough reason to hate you already," a frustrated tone came from Tim, a tone Rhys had never personally witnessed.

"Hey! Hold up. Firstly I have no idea what you're talking about and secondly," Rhys paused, "No wait. There is no secondly."

"Don't give me that craaap. C'mon," Tim shook his head in disgust, "You know /exactly/ what I'm talking about."

"I wish I did. I was out of it Tim! Refresh my memory real quick because I don't have the-"

Timothy interrupted, "God, right, okay. If you really don't remember, let's go over it again, mm'kay?" Rhys moved his head up and down with hesitation and confusion and Tim began, "The insults. The countless plethora of insults and threats. You told me if I, and I quote, 'didn't stop looking like you' you would take a buzz axe to my face and peel it off and feed it to a hoarde of hungry bullymongs! Jesus what is wrong with you! I thought you were alright, Rhys."

"Uhhhm. Obviously- haha- obviously not," Rhys mustered up awkwards laughs mid sentence to hide his shame and guilt. He had no history of violence or explicit threatening before. The thought of a peeled off face churned the contents of Rhys' mostly empty stomach.

"And I think you really, really need to apologise to Wilhelm. If anyone is gonna peel of anybody's face, it'll be him peeling off yours bud."

"Great, what'd I do to him?" Rhys rolled his eyes and watched as Timothy gestured for Wilhelm to join the conversation. He growled with a husky, sleep deprived voice and stomped his way over, the weight of his mechanical legs shaking the floor.

"You'll find out." Tim walked away, displeased with Rhys who had really, seriously outshined his expectations. In the worst possible way.

"So, prick, are you going to say sorry?" Wilhelm positioned himself right in front of Rhys, unbearably close, invading the entire proximity in which Rhys deemed "personal space".

"When I found out what I should be sorry for, I'll think about it." Rhys folded his arms tightly across his chest and arrogantly turned his nose up to Wilhelm, refusing to be berated by the likes of him.

"You might not wanna talk so smart, punk. I will rip off that dandy little robot arm of yours and do with it just as you asked of me last night." Wilhelm bared his teeth like a predator in action, a snarl accompanying it befittingly.

"Alright, alright. Care to tell me what I've done?" Rhys unfolded his arms and reduced his stance to a more appropriate one. One that showed he was, yes, scared of the cyborg before him.

"I don't know where you got that sort of cash but you were throwing note upon note all over me. Which, under normal circumstances would make me...Pleased...These were not normal circumstances. I wanted to punch the shutter shades and gold chains right off you and that weasel Vaughn. You kept yelling and yelling 'do it robo man! Shove more metal into your body! Robo freak! Johnny 5 is alive!' Whatever the shit that means. You tried to skewer me with an elongated steel rod."

Rhys wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh so hard but retained composure as the man he had upset was clenching a fist at his side. He closed his eyes in hopes Wilhelm wouldn't see that he found humour in the situation.

"Ohhh, pumpkin, just let the laughs out. It was funny. I can't believe you don't remember it. I'm actualy sad, that's what. Sad."

"I don't want to laugh. Where are you getting that?" Rhys opened his eyes.

"What?" Wilhelm questioned, tilting his head at Rhys.

"You just like, told me to laugh?"

"Oh yeah. Real funny that one. Get the fuck outta my sight, Rhys." Wilhelm stormed off, not even waiting for the apology he wanted out of Rhys.

Rhys stared blankly into space, pondering ideas that might relieve him of the current stress he was enduring,"Vaughn!" Rhys suddenly exclaimed to himself, garnering the attention of several of those in the room with him, "If Vaughn was more sober than me which, is highly likely, he can clear this mess up for me,"

"That sad, little nerd won't know shit, buddy. God, you're better off asking a toaster." 

"Thanks. Thanks Tim for the input," Rhys turned to flip him off, but no one was stood even remotely near him. Tim was no where in sight. Rhys shook his head violently, "Need a coffee..." his voice trailed off.

Rhys didn't offer anyone in the office a goodbye or a reason why he was heading out but he did so anyway, caring too little. He waltzed his way through the building, through stretches of similar hallways that would be comparable to navigating your way through a labrinth. If it wasn't for all the signs and maps plastered up on almost every wall as if it was some sort of tourist destination you would never escape. Accounting is where Vaughn could be found, tabulating columns of beautiful numbers, as he would and has put it before.

It wasn't long before Rhys approached the door to Vaughn's office. As a friend of Vaughn's it wasn't the first time Rhys had been there. A small, minimalistic office, with a great array of gadgets and gizmos installed into the walls and in his computer, making up for lack of general luxurious etiquette; Vaughn had an expensive taste, just not a very aesthetically pleasing one. It was without much of a doubt, something worth bragging about, a factor that made Rhys undeniably jelous, though he would never admit. Rhys harshly knocked on the door, the steel clanging against the supple bones of his hands.

"Vaughn buddy? Can I have a quick word?" Rhys called, facing a distorted a blurred reflection of himself in the metal.

"He didn't show up this morning," a voice called from across the hall.

Rhys, slightly startled, turned to the source of the noise. It was Fiona. He eyed her up and down, puzzled, before speaking, "Did he call in sick?"

"Not that I know of," Fiona said, adjusting the well worn had perched upon her head.

"Odd." Rhys' voice bluntly came, "Not like Vaughn to be skipping work at all. I should call him."

"You do that," she said with a distinct lack of interest and care. She walked away.

"Hmph," Rhys grumbled, rolling his eyes, flicking out the palm of his cybernetic arm, calling Vaughn. There was no answer. A fleeting notion of nausea flooded over Rhys and he doubled over in pain, "Shit...I think I have alcohol poisoning," His head began ringing and he held onto his echo eye implant as if that was the source of the pain. It was not. His stomach gargled and he regained enough composure to dart to the nearest toilet. The thick wedges of his skag boots clipped the floor as he ran, throwing himself at the swinging door of the bathroom.

Without hesitation, he threw himself at yet another door, this time the one of a cubicle. He suspended his head over the bowl and began retching and gagging. His head was spinning as endless throw up left his body. Eventually -still grasping onto his head- he stood up.

"Y'done? That was gross, kiddo,"

"Huh?" Rhys looked at a figure leaning against the door frame of the cubicle and almost slipped over on the tile in complete shock, "What the shit!"

"Language, language. I said are you done?" The man spoke demandingly, a harsh smile stretched across his face as he watched Rhys' jaw literally drop. Rhys reached to touch him, but his hand phased right through him, "W-What the..Who are you?"

"Not important. Well it is but we'll get there." he said. He had his brown hair swept back neatly, a streak of silver slicing it across the middle. He was Timothy's doppelganger. His eyes, one blue and one green, eyed up Rhys.

"What's going on? Explain. Please. Like, right now," Rhys became all jittery and wanted to vomit again, but held back the urge.

"I'm in your head, kiddo! And we have some serious, serious work to do. Now before you start stuttering and smacking me left right and centre with your questions -and I know you wanna- hold onto those. I don't care to hear 'em." Rhys tried to speak, opening his mouth but his mouth was forced shut by no fault of his own, "Uh uh uh. Nope. Let me finish. I saw you last night. I mean I became you last night! I said so much shit to that robo freak, Wilhelm. Johnny 5 is alive! Fuck -haha- I am funny. Anyway, I know who you are, Rhys. Sitting inside your head I rumaged through your very dull existence. And people treat you like shit! You're right at the bottom of the food chain, ain't ya?" Rhys compliantly nodded, "But that's gonna change real fast. We're gonna get back to the top."

Rhys tilted his head, "Back?"

"Ohhhh, baby. I am a king."

**Author's Note:**

> if u wanna read more please say because otherwise ill forget this even exists and it will never be finished. i have some good plans for this story so stay tuned. its a lil shit at the moment my bad


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